Whitebark Stream the black sea

she pauses mid-step, crimson eyes narrowing as her ears flick toward the faint sound of movement behind her. her body remains still, coiled with tension.

when the figure emerges from the trees, her gaze sharpens, studying the stranger with a predator’s precision.

she sees in him... her lips curl faintly, the barest flicker of a sneer breaking her otherwise impassive expression.

she steps forward, her movements slow and calculated as she circles him. you hunt, she growls finally, her voice rough and low, more observation than question. you fight. but black scar no muradoii. what is he?

just to be on the safe side, she ushers sobeille to remain behind her with a quick snip of teeth.